GUNSMOKE   Wichita
by MarMar1
Summary: All relationships change, grow, have problems. What happens when a Dodge City relationship has an issue that comes to a head.
1. Chapter 1

Wichita a GUNSMOKE story 

By MarMar1

Sept 2007

CHAPTER 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, but I have a better idea what to do with them than those who do. I intend no copyright infringement and the only profit will be a comment of two from readers. Well, also the satisfaction of a story told.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is set around late season 17 or early season 18, after "The Bullet" and before "Hostage!", 3 to 4 seasons after "Exodus 20:21".

Kitty Russell stopped at the shop door and shook some of the street dust from her skirts, also taking the opportunity to look back the way she had just come. She couldn't deny the feeling that she was being watched, but the street was busy; too busy for her to detect anyone suspicious. It could be any of the dozens of people moving along the street, or, more likely, no one at all. She straightened from her chore and mentally shook herself, emitting a little sound of disgust. Had it been so long since she had spent time in a big city that she saw, or felt, danger at every turn? "Hummph!" Maybe, after all these years, she was only good for small town life, she thought with a roll of her eyes. Turning back to the shop door, she entered the interior shade.

She looked, really she did. The shop woman was very nice and not overly solicitous, but nothing caught her eye. There was not a dress in the shop that she wanted to bother to try on. For once, her heart was just not in it. She had been in town for six days and had yet to buy a single item. She just couldn't seem to keep her mind focused on the beautiful, supple fabrics or the new dress cuts. With a sigh of defeat, she resigned herself to another wasted afternoon, but, as she turned she caught sight of the nice shop lady. She knew the woman was trying not to hover or be a nuisance and, truly, she was doing a commendable job. She also knew this woman was likely the owner of the shop and that she would be crossing her fingers behind her back, smiling as she offered up a small prayer that this new afternoon customer would make a purchase. Kitty understood the pressures of a woman on her own trying to make a living. Without a second thought, Kitty lifted the hat from the end of the table in front of her and made small talk with the shop woman as they completed the transaction. Laden with the large box containing her new acquisition, she sternly refused to give ground to the feelings of despair, thanked the woman once again, and exited the shop, completely forgetting her earlier feeling of being watched.

"Need any help with that, ma'am?" The deep voice startled Kitty as she nearly ran into the big man blocking her way; her earlier unsettled feeling returning in full. Instantly on guard, her eyes traveled up the torso of the broad, tall man, her mind automatically noting that despite his height and size, this was not Matt Dillon.

Kitty let out a little gasp and the solid man chuckled, seeing her look of defiance turn to recognition, relief.

Lifting the light, but bulky burden from her hands, he remarked, "You let that new hat break you concentration. I saw you looking around; you picked up pretty early that somebody had tagged ya. Matt must be wearing off on you." He didn't miss the brief cloud that crossed her eyes.

Releasing her package to his care, she gently slapped his arm. "Frank Reardon, you shouldn't go sneaking up on a lady like that! You're just lucky you didn't get a jab from a nice long hat pin!" Her lovely contralto teasingly chastised him. "Have you been following me? And what on Earth are you doing in Wichita?"

Adjusting the ties of the hat box into his left hand, Reardon gently placed his right hand under her elbow and guided her away from the doorway. "Just since the last corner" he admitted, "but I wasn't sneaking: he defended, "just didn't want to go hollerin' down the street, so I just figured I'd catch up with you and…"

"And lurk outside the door to scare me?" she lightly challenged?

He offered a sheepish grin, "Now, Kitty, you don't expect me to go traipsing into a ladies' dress and millinery emporium, do you?"

Kitty laughed as her old friend projected the appearance of a wayward boy trying to charm his Sunday School teacher.

"You know, if you don't want to be noticed, you ought to tuck that pretty hair up under a much bigger hat." His eyes swept appreciatively over her upswept red tresses as maturity returned to his countenance.


	2. Chapter 2

Wichita a GUNSMOKE story

By MarMar1

Sept 2007

DISCLAIMER AND AUTHOR'S NOTE: see chapter 1

CHAPTER 2

Frank settled the hat box atop the table in the sitting room of Kitty's hotel suite. Taking in the plush accommodations he let out a low whistle. "So, this is how the other half lives. And a view," he looked down from the third flood window to a small park across the street. "My little back room looks out over an alley. I don't even bother to look."

"Well, come sit down and enjoy the high life." Kitty played along with his light hearted ribbing. He had always teased her about the benefits of being a woman with her own money. Securing the pin to the small chapeau, she set it next to the box on the table and moved toward the conversation area: a settee and two stuffed chairs by the fireplace. Settling onto the settee, she looked up to find Frank watching her. She smiled and cocked one eyebrow at him.

"Ah, Kitty, I'd love to stay and visit, but I have to meet with a couple of gentlemen; I was on my way there when I found you." He twirled his own hat in his hand as he spoke. "But, if you have no plans, maybe you'd have dinner with an old friend. You can catch me up with all the news from Dodge" he paused, "and then maybe I can see that hat that captured you attention and distracted you from the dangers of the big city." His eyes twinkled with teasing.

His own distraction caused him to miss her brief hesitation. He saw only the dazzling smile and genuine delight at the prospect.

"Dinner, yes, but I won't make any promises about the hat." She cast a wary glance in the direction of the box. "But, not too early. I think I'll indulge in a late afternoon nap."

They each walked to the door that led out into the hallway. His hand on the doorknob, Frank committed, "I'll come by about seven, then." He waited for her agreement before dropping the hat onto his head and closing the door.

TBC

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	3. Chapter 3

Wichita chapter 3

By MarMar1

Sept 2007

DISCLAIMER AND AUTHOR'S NOTE: see chapter 1

Since chapter 2 and 3 are each short chapters, I thought I would post them (almost) together, not waiting for chap.2 feedback or anything. Enjoy. Chapter 4 to come soon.

CHAPTER 3

Kitty stared through the window. Her sleep had been fitful and now the evening's stormy, dark weather matched her own gloomy mood. She had dressed, touched up her face and smoothed her hair, but she was regretting the plans they had made. She would be lousy company and Frank would certainly want to talk about Dodge and their mutual friends, about Matt. She dreaded going out in the heavy rain; she wanted nothing more that to sit in the dark with a glass of whiskey for company.

With a sigh, she pulled herself away from the forbidding view and forced herself to light the lanterns. It was after seven; perhaps the storm would keep him away.

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	4. Chapter 4

Wichita a GUNSMOKE story

By MarMar1

Sept 2007

CHAPTER 4

Seven-twenty-five; a knock. Kitty froze for a moment, then placed the clean glass back beside the decanter. Moving to the door she called, "Frank?"

"It's me, Kitty." She heard as she turned the key in the door.

"I'm 'bout half drowned and I'm late, but I'm here."

She saw that it was true. His hat dripped as he lifted it from his head and his pant legs were surely soaked through below the knees. She guessed he had left a poncho downstairs.

"Ya got a glass o' whiskey to ward off the chill?" Frank grinned from under a mop of wet hair.

"Of course, Frank, come in." Kitty stepped to the sideboard and poured a double shot while Frank ruffled his fingers through his hair to shake out what water he could. She met him in the center of the room and handed off the glass before continuing through the connecting door. She returned to trade a small hand towel for the now empty glass. Sitting on the arm of a chair, she smiled at the tall man as he made a vain attempt to get control of his hair after having a go at it with the towel.

She gave a half laugh and said, "You really shouldn't have come out in this weather." She wondered if her voice gave away just how much she meant it.

"Now, Miss Kitty, I'm a man of my word. I wasn't gonna just leave you sittin' here waitin' on me on account of a little rain!" he said as thunder rumbled. Tossing the damp towel onto the empty chair, Frank sank down onto the settee and stretched out his long legs. "I'll be darned, though, if that rain didn't just keep getting worse the whole way."

Kitty handed him a replenished glass, then sat across from him, this time opting for the chair seat proper.

"Well, Frank," Kitty shook her head, "and now you won't even have dinner." She inclined her head toward the window, indicating the downpour.

"Ah, but you promised to show me that new hat." He smiled, noting that the box no longer graced the table, but was relegated to a dark corner.

"Huh! I did no such thing!" Kitty protested. "In fact, I'm..."

She stopped short when there was a sharp knock at the door. She raised an eyebrow and jokingly asked, "You aren't being followed, are you?"

Even as she spoke, Frank was up and opening the door. He allowed entry to a young man laden with two large boxes. As Kitty looked on in surprise, Frank and the stranger carried the boxes to the table and proceeded to unload several covered plates and dishes. In short order, Frank had tipped the young man and closed the door behind him. He turned back to find Kitty staring at the table, now set for two and spread with a complete fried chicken dinner. She turned her look of tender disbelief toward him.

"Figured you weren't going out in this rain," Frank shrugged, "and I DID promise you dinner."

He was rewarded with a smile as he guided her to the table and held the chair for her.

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NOTE: authors love feedback and reviews.


	5. Chapter 5

Wichita a GUNSMOKE story

By MarMar1

Sept 2007

CHAPTER 5

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Perhaps you are as I am and prefer longer chapters (longer than the first four of this story). Well, I confess, chapters 1-5 were actually written as one chapter. I just couldn't resist the temptation to post a few shorter pieces first as a tease. A warning, though, if you are one of us 'long chapter lovers'. This chapter is certainly longer, but the wait between chapters is likely to be a good bit longer as well. I will do what I can. Hope you enjoy; Let me know.

CHAPTER 5 (or, the conclusion of chapter 1)

"Horse trading?" Kitty asked, returning the cloth serviette to her lap.

"Just transporting, really," he laid the stripped chicken bone down and licked a few fingers before resorting to his own napkin. "Just figured it was time for me to come back into the world a little and this is something I know. Besides, it keeps me outside." He refilled their glasses and set the bottle back on the table. "So, how is Dodge? Still half wild?" His voice tinged with envy. "Matt still using that booming voice and fast draw to keep the lid on?" He leaned back, the remains of the meal on the table, and sipped his wine, wishing he had a steaming cup of coffee instead.

"Oh, the streets are a little busier, maybe, but nothing much changes, you know."

"Festus and ol' Doc still pickin' at each other?" The flatness of her tone had not escaped his notice.

An irrepressible little smile broke through, "Only when they're together." They shared a chuckle.

"And how about you?" Frank decided to change his focus. "What brings you over to the big city? A big shopping trip?" His eyes cast briefly to the abandoned hat box. "Have you filled your trunks with the current fashions?" He tried for a bedazzled look and failed miserably.

The twinkle in her eye was no more than a flash. She blew out a little breath. "No, not this time. In fact, I've been in town for days and that hat is the first thing I've purchased. I just can't seem to find anything that's right." Another sigh.

"By golly, that hat must be something! I think I really do want to see it!"

"Oh, I doubt that!" she smirked, knowing Franks attitude about fashion was much the same as most men's. "Besides, I really don't even remember what it looks like. I think I just bought it because I didn't want to disappoint the shop owner ... again."

Frank smiled to himself, thinking of that combination of shrewd business owner and compassionate woman who was his friend. Then, seeing again the hint of strain around her eyes, he asked right out, "What is it, Kitty?"

She held his gaze for a moment, then looked to where her fingers worried with her glass. She made a decision. Years of practice held her poker face steady. "I had to leave. Dodge...I had to leave."

She waited, took a deep calming breath, projected as much detachment as she could muster. "Matt nearly died last year."

Frank froze, the wine glass between table and mouth. He looked at her, trying to read the things hidden behind her façade.

"He was shot," she said dryly, the 'of course' sounded only in the timbre of her voice. "In the back." Her eyes moved away form his face and looked off to some place only she could see. "Doc was afraid to operate; afraid he would paralyze Matt. Took him on a train, headed for a clinic in Denver. It was days before, well, he finally did. Months before Matt was really back... really back to full strength." She paused, "It wasn't easy." Her gaze returned to his, her discipline inadequately covering the haunted look in her eyes.

"Matt wouldn't make the best patient." Frank spoke, but did not move, giving her the space to continue. Silence stretched; Kitty was lost in the deep red of the wine in her glass, so like the stains on Matt's shirt.

Frank, somewhat at a loss, remained quiet. If he understood correctly, then Matt was now fine, back to full strength she had said. Yet here she was. 'Had to leave', she had said.

"You know Matt," she said flatly, "all duty and badge. Doc says it'll be a week, he's up in two days. Doc says months, well..."

Frank wanted to say yeah, he knew. Matt was possibly the most stubborn, single-minded, strong willed man he knew. Also the most dedicated and vigilant lawman he had ever heard of. He held his tongue.

Kitty's fingers traced patterns on the wooden table top. "We argued, of course. He was pushing himself so hard. He was back at work faster than Doc expected; sooner than Doc wanted." Her long, deep sigh spoke loudly. "More than twenty years. More than twenty years he's worn a badge, most of those years a marshal's badge. It's damn near killed him more times than I care to remember." Her eyes held a sad fire that told of the cost those times, those memories, held for her. The pain was evident in her voice. "Why won't he leave it? What is it? I know he never really expected to survive this long. Hell, he always made that more than clear. But, he has survived, damn it! He has..." She seemed to catch herself. She turned her face aside and closed her eyes, drew in a shaky breath.

"Oh, Frank," her eyes sought his, "I told him he should walk away, take the badge off and leave it." She made a self recriminating sound. "You can imagine how well that went over."

Frank chuckled softly. "Yeah, I sure can. I suppose he also said something about a job that had to be done."

"What is it, Frank? Why is he like that? Plenty of men have walked away from a badge. Others have worn a badge and had a family. Even that wild man Tom Lynott found a place in his life for a wife, a good wife. You did it; you found a balance. Why can't he ever see past duty? Why can't he take care of himself?" A part of her thought that maybe Frank could explain it, could make her understand.

He leaned forward, arms resting on the table. He sensed her need, her desperation, and wished to goodness he could give her a better answer. "I don't know Kitty. I don't know." Was all he could offer as he looked into her bereft blue eyes.

"Maybe it's me." She offered.

Frank flopped back in his chair, threw his head back and let out a great guffaw, "Hah! Yeah! It's you!" He chuckled and shook his head. Felt good to laugh, until

it hit him, the change in atmosphere. Sitting upright, he looked over at his companion and saw she was close to the edge. For a moment, he simply watched her, unable to comprehend, to believe that she actually meant what she had said. Then, reaching out, he covered her hand with his own and spoke.

"You can't possibly be thinking there's something wrong with you!" he paused. "Oh, Kitty, do you really have no idea?" Moving forward in his chair, he lifted her hand and held it in both of his. The forlorn look she could no longer disguise was as much a shock as her words had been.

"You know you're beautiful." Of course she knows, he thought, every man who sees her tells her, in some way." He pressed a gentle squeeze into her hand. "And there is so much more than beauty. Kitty, you're intelligent, funny, compassionate. Did I mention Beautiful?" He tried a little smile. "You're easy to talk to, to be with, you're successful and strong. Did I mention beautiful?" He shook his head, wondering how to tell her she was damn near the perfect woman. "I can't imagine what more a man could want, Kitty. You're a royal flush."

He was rewarded with a small, sad smile. Slipping her hand from his, she stood and her skirts rustled softly as she walked toward the window. "Looks don't last, Frank. I know that. Your choice of words was nice, but I suppose someone might just as well say too smart, crass, nosy, common, hard, masculine." She stared out on the raging storm, counterpoint to her own inner turmoil. "I long ago gave up being the sort of woman that comes to a man's mind when he imagines a wife."

The roll of thunder was matched by Frank's fists assaulting the surface of the table. "Damn Matt Dillon!" he roared. Anger drove him from his seat, the chair crashing over from the force. "If he were here..." Frank bit off the end of that thought, returning his focus to Kitty. He forced himself to soften as his long legs carried him around the table. "What has he done, Kitty, to make you doubt yourself like this?" He stopped several steps behind her, leaving space for the powerful emotions filling the air. He stood, at a loss for what to do, what to say. Unprepared for this insecure, uncertain Kitty.

"We argued; the same tired, old fight." She sighed and turned from the window. "Oh, not about marriage" she said, shaking her head. "I gave up any illusions about that a long time back, but... the job. The badge." Her agitation seemed to grow as she spoke; she paced the room. "I guess I'd always figured the hold it had on him would lessen over time. He's not getting any younger, but the 'spoilers' are" she used Matt's catch all term for those who made his job necessary. "Younger and faster, and that badge just seems to claim him more and more." She stopped by the wing chair, her hands resting on top as she looked past it to Frank, her eyes locking with his. "It's going to kill him. Sometimes I think he wants it to kill him, that he can't see past the badge, past 'duty' to any other life." Frank saw the agony in her eyes before she turned her head and angled herself away from him. "We fought. He said...I'd be better off without him, with someone else...somewhere else...that...maybe I should leave to..." Her hand lifted to cover her mouth as she turned away even more. Though he couldn't see them, he knew that the pain he had seen in Kitty's eyes was now spilling down her cheeks.

Frank felt a fire burn in him. A part of him was surprised, but the rest of him struggled to not smash a chair across the table, wishing it to be Matt Dillon's head. Damn the man!

Through the haze of his anger, he once more saw Kitty. Her head bowed over slender shoulders, she leaned on the back of the chair. With strength of will, he pushed the anger down; there was a more immediate problem. He couldn't crack Dillon's skull, but he was here, he could attend to this.

"Kitty?" He stepped up behind her. When there was no response, he reached a hand out lightly to her shoulder. "Kitty," he paused; what to say? "Kitty, he doesn't mean it." No man in his right mind would send this woman away and Matt was as sane as they come.

"Oh, but he does, Frank." She turned, her fingertips drying beneath her eyes. "There is nothing over duty; he isn't going to change and... I can't give any more." She slumped in defeat. "Maybe he's right."

Frank felt his chest cinch at the sound, the look of her, and the fire burned. "Duty!" he spat the word. "Kitty, when a man loves a woman, he has a duty to care for her." His voice was tight, low, intense. "He has a duty to be sure she knows that she's cherished. Everyday he has a duty, because he can never know when his last chance has passed."

The sadness in her eyes was softened by compassion, her gentle hand was firm on his arm. "She knew, oh, Frank, She knew." She spoke softly, but with surety. "Maria knew what she meant to you; don't ever doubt that." Their eyes met and held. Kitty offered him a small, bittersweet smile. "She knew." She said again with conviction, nodding her head, her eyes imploring him to believe the truth of it.

"Yeah," his hand gave hers a grateful squeeze before he moved away. "She knew. Still, I wish I'd known it was the last time." He helped himself to a shot of whiskey. Returning the glass to its place, he moved to the table and began collecting the refuse of their meal, dumping it all into the original box. Kitty joined him, moving the dishes into a stack, filling the other box.

Frank stopped her hand, getting her attention. "Kitty, I'm sorry." It seemed so inadequate. To answer her questioning look, he continued. "I'm sorry to add to your troubles. I'm sorry Matt's such jackass." He hated to bring him up, but couldn't ignore it. He felt a little helpless. "Just..." He put his hands up a little, then let them fall. "...for everything."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, "Everything?" She asked, letting her voice sound just a little dejected.

"Oh, well, the dinner was good." Frank teased back, then added "and the rain," placing the refuse box onto the dish crate, jerking his head back toward the window. The storm outside had worn down barely a sprinkle. "Don't suppose it would have been the same if we'd been out somewhere." His mouth quirked with a half smile. "The rain kept us here." His eyes caught with hers in an understanding look.

Lifting the two boxes, he stepped around the table toward the door. "Frank, you don't need to haul all that. I'll get the clerk to take it." Kitty offered. He had done so much, she felt it was her turn.

"Just get the door for me, Kitty. I tipped the boy a little extra so he'd come back and pick it all up." He bent and set the boxes outside the door.

Kitty chuckled softly, hands resting on her hips, "You never cease to amaze me, Frank Reardon. You're just full of surprises."

"I'm a man of many talents, Miss Russell." Frank grinned as he stepped back through the door. "Just been out of the world for a time." His voice tinged with a little more emotion as he retrieved his hat.

He stood with hand on the doorknob; Kitty joined him at the door. She put her hand on his forearm and his hat twirling ceased. "Thank you, Frank." He looked up. "For dinner...for listening."

"My pleasure, ma'am." He responded, voice not quite as lighthearted as before. He lifted a hand gently to the side of her face and took a moment to take inventory. "A man would have to be a fool, Kitty. He'd have to be a fool, to not make a place for you in his life." He let his gaze linger a bit longer, then slowly placed his hat on his head, stepped out, and closed the door.

End Chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

**Wichita** chapter 6

By MarMar1

October 18, 2007

**Author's Note:** Wichita was known for the annual Flower Parade. Though it perhaps started just a little later than this story might be set, I have borrowed the idea.

Kitty shuffled the scrambled eggs listlessly around on the plate; the gay chatter of hotel patrons filing the lobby-side café was little more than background noise. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

Again she mentally kicked herself, remembering the previous evening. What had she been thinking? Well, that was just it – she hadn't been thinking, not at all. Matt was such a private person by nature and his line of work demanded even more reticence of him. So many times over the years he had cautioned her to play their private lives, hers especially, close to the chest? It was a lesson she had thought she'd learned long ago. Yet, she realized now that she had babbled on like a flooded stream rushing to empty itself unhindered into the open water. The single blessing was that Frank was a good friend to them both, a

dear friend. She knew there was no danger confiding in Frank the personal events that had brought her to Wichita. Not the sort of danger that was the constant shadow companion of their lives. She wondered, though, if this exposure might somehow be worse. Wouldn't Matt see this as a breech, a betrayal?

Along with these thoughts came the inevitable stab in her chest, the catch of her breath. Their lives. Increasingly, though, this pain was laced with anger. How could he do it? How could Matt so coolly suggest that perhaps she ought to move on in her life, to look for someone else? That it "might be better for her"!? Was he so able to remove himself from his feelings? No longer shuffling, her fork now stabbed at the offending eggs. Was

it so easy for him? STAB! He had been so calm when he had said it. STAB! Standing there. So immovable. STAB! No hesitation, no catch in his voice! STAB! He hadn't even had the decency to fiddle with the hat in his hands! STAB! Unemotional, the way he was when facing down a threat out on front street! STAB! Was he so disconnected from the feelings …or did he simply not have them? STAB! A low growl rumbled in her throat, the swirling thoughts draining her energy. Unwilling or unable to endure another round, she forced herself to take a full, deep breath. She leaned into the chair back and gracelessly surrendered the fork onto the still full plate.

"Is it dead?"

His voice startled her. "Wha..?" She looked up and saw his impish grin.

"I was afraid to come close" he half teased. "Don't know what those eggs did to you, but I sure wouldn't want to make the same mistake."

"It wasn't the eggs." Kitty stated flatly.

"The chicken?" Frank's mouth twitched, belying any seriousness. He saw her relax just a little. "The rooster?" he asked, eyebrows jutting up in mock alarm.

He was rewarded with a smile. A sardonic smile, to be sure, but a smile none the less.

"Just wasn't hungry, I guess." Kitty effortlessly steered the conversation to safer ground. She simply wasn't up to dealing with any more at the moment. "What brings you by this morning?" She matched her words with a gesture inviting him to sit in her table's other seat.

"This" he said lightly, a twinkle coming to his eyes. Taking the offered chair, he brought from behind his back three bright, huge sunflowers. With a little flourish, he held them out to her across the table. "I saw them and knew you had to have them." He cleared his throat a little nervously. "Last night wasn't…" he hesitated. "Well, I just thought a little cheer was in order and there isn't much of anything more cheery than sunflowers." He finished in a little bit of a rush.

His reward this time was a genuine smile. Not her dazzling, stop your heart smile, but a smile and it was warm and lasting.

"Oh, Frank, thank you. You are a wonder and I do love Sunflowers." Kitty spoke as she held the large blooms out to appreciate them.

"I know," his voice grew quiet and soft. "Maria, she mentioned once they were your favorite."

Kitty's gaze left the bright flowers and fell on the man across from her. He was a dear friend, indeed. Imagine him remembering such a thing all this time, remembering and acting on it. She didn't fail to notice the ghost of a shadow that slipped across his face. She put her slender hand on his forearm and gave it a tender squeeze. "I miss her."

His eyes met hers and they shared the look of those remembering a precious loved one.

"Kitty," the twinkle had returned to both his eyes and his voice. "Whatever your plans are for the day, forget them!" He held up his hand to forestall her protest. "Nope. No uninspired shopping today. No ma'am! Today, we will have fun. I don't know what's going on, but there must be something up. Some excitement on the street, I could feel it.

"The Parade," she supplied the answer. "It's the annual Flower Parade. Everyone's been talking about it." She surprised herself, she hadn't even realized so much of the ambient conversations had registered with her thoughts.

Frank was out of his seat. "Parade, huh?" He was behind her chair, poised to help her rise. "Sure explains all those people and all those flowers." His momentum was contagious; Kitty rose as he moved her chair out of the way. "We'll find the best spot, Red, and we'll see how many sunflowers we can count!"

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	7. Chapter 7 After The Parade

Wichita chapter 7 after the parade

They opened the door laughing. Lifting off her large sunhat, Kitty thought how wonderful it felt to laugh; today's laughter had brought with it relief as well as joy. Turning, she saw Frank and she chuckled again, shaking her head as if not believing the memories of the day and the occasionally outrageous and ridiculous things Frank had done to gain possession of all the sunflowers he now held.

Kitty quickly returned from the other room, having retrieved the large pitcher from the wash basin stand. "Here we go; oh, I hope it will hold them all." She worried as Frank followed her to the table where she purposefully placed the pitcher. She turned and started to take the flowers from him, placing their stems one by one into the water. As she depleted the load in his arms, Frank began helping, though he noticed that Kitty frequently resituated the flowers he stuck into the grouping. He decided to stop and simply allow her to arrange them, knowing the result would be much nicer. She positioned the final stem and stepped back to inspect the mass of yellow that nearly overwhelmed the table. Frank beamed a big smile in reaction to her obvious delight. He was so glad to see a genuine sparkle in her eyes.

"What's this?" He asked, taking a step, reaching out to lightly brush his fingertip to her nose.

"What?" Kitty responded, moving immediately to the sideboard mirror, fearing she'd see some offending smudge on her face. "What?" she asked again.

Frank grinned at her alarm. "Well, they seem to be splashed all over that pretty little nose."

"Where?" She continued to search her own reflection until it dawned on her. "Oh, you! Frank!" She exclaimed with mock ire. "It isn't polite to go pointing out a lady's freckles." She humphed. After one last disgusted glance she turned from the mirror. "Even that monster sunhat can't keep them from popping out. Thank you so much for noticing."

"Hey, I think they're kinda cute." He defended himself. "How 'bout that new hat you bought. Maybe that one would be better at keeping the sun blocked."

"Will you just forget about that hat?" Frank had figured his mention of the new hat would get her off the freckle issue. Still, he just couldn't resist teasing a little more.

"Maybe you should put the hat on now, 'cause we sure filled up this room with sunshine." He indicated the explosion of sunflowers on the table. He decided to retreat before he got into too much trouble. "I've gotta be going, Kitty. Have to meet with those horse traders down at the stable. Gotta find out when the rest of the stock is getting here."

"How many more are there, Frank?" Kitty asked, interested.

"Oh, I think six more, that'll make fourteen total for the trip. Fine stock, too, judging by the eight we have in the corral."

"I'd love to see them before you go." Kitty looked at him expectantly, her eyes asking. Frank remembered her love of the animals; she had always had a appreciation of them beyond their value as a good work animal.

"Those others are supposed to be coming in tomorrow morning. I'd be proud to take you down there to see them."

"Would you?" She asked to gauge his sincerity. "I'd like that; as long as it isn't too early in the morning." She cautioned.

Frank chuckled, twirling his hat as the walked toward the door. "I'll come by after ten; that late enough?" His voice dripped with exaggerated concern.

"It will be," Kitty chose to ignore his teasing. They stopped; Frank turned the doorknob and let the door crack open. She stopped him with a touch to his arm. "Thank you, Frank. Thank you for a wonderful day, I can't remember the last time I laughed so much, felt so carefree." He could see in her eyes there were still shadows of emotion. "The flowers, the sunshine, thank you."

"I enjoyed every last minute of it." He told her honestly. Then without thinking, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Oh," breathed out of her.

His finger once more met the tip of her nose. "Those freckles really are irresistible." Then he stepped out into the hall and closed the door.


	8. Chapter 8 After the Parade  Kitty

Wichita chapter 8 after the parade - Kitty

By MarMar1

Oct/Nov 2007

Disclaimer – see chapter 1

Kitty neither heard nor saw the door close. Her fingertips touched her lips, she closed her eyes. Frank. Her thoughts swirled, thoughts of the day, the sunlight, the laughter. Thoughts of Frank and how in many ways he reminded her of Matt, back when they were so young. Thoughts of horses and badges and sunflowers and duty and loss and love and being happy. These thoughts swirled, vying for her attention, but she would not give it.

She had spent weeks with her thoughts, her thoughts and her pain. She had nearly gone mad trying to sort out her thoughts. Thoughts of Matt, her home, her business. Today, she forced the thoughts down and allowed only feelings. Deep down was the strongest feeling, the pain; the pain of rejection, of Matt saying perhaps she should leave, that she would be better off with someone else. Feelings of love and loss tainted by the pain. Feelings she had cried over until she was exhausted. But now, over those feelings there were others. Feelings not quite new, but nearly forgotten. It seemed so very long since she had felt carefree and forever since she had only herself to consider. She was drawn to the freedom in that, drawn, yet unsure.

Slowly, Kitty turned. She saw for the first time her rooms as something other than a place of exile. The lightness of the day allowed her to see the glimmer of possibilities, the reality of choices. Her gaze settled on the bright mass of yellow that dominated the room. The brightness of the sunflowers encouraged the brightness of her feelings and, for the first time in weeks, she smiled from the heart.


	9. Chapter 9 Dead Ends

Wichita chapter 9 Dead Ends

By MarMar1

Oct/Nov 2007

DISCLAIMER: see chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, I know that last chapter was frustratingly short, but it had to be said and it was long enough to do it. This chapter is a tad longer. Enjoy.

WICHITA chapter 9 DEAD ENDS

"Not a good idea, Matt." Doc's acerbic comment mingled with the strains of fiddle and banjo music. Even halfway down Front Street the music drifted clearly on the night air, too clearly; and the irony was not lost on the marshal of Dodge City. Here he was, for once, in town during a Sociable and still he wasn't attending. Had no desire to attend. No, he had the desire. What he didn't have was the someone he wanted to dance with and he knew it was his own damned fault. Matt didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to think about it. In his frustration, he had kicked out at the boardwalk as if in some way it had offended him. For his efforts he felt a sharp stab of pain up his leg and back. Damn!

Even now he often felt the aftermath of his most recent brush with the reaper, the reaper or something worse. This only darkened his mood further.

"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be down there dancing and keeping Festus out of trouble?" Matt wanted only to distract his old friend from his observations. The last thing he needed was to have Doc nagging him about his back.

Doc chuckled, "Not me; oh no!" He chuckled again, quietly. The two men walked side by side. Reaching the marshal's office, each took a seat in one of the chairs on the boardwalk. Doc let the silence sit on them for a while before speaking.

"How is your back, Matt?" he had a pretty good idea how it was, but he wasn't sure he should ask what he really wanted to know.

"Fine." An abundance of words, as usual. Matt knew Doc too well, knew there was more on his mind than the condition of Matt's back.

The music stopped. Matt could see in his mind the people moving about, lining up at the table to get a glass of punch, some hoping for a little something extra in the cup. He was ambushed by the question of the glasses. Where had they gotten the glasses? How long had it been now that Kitty had supplied the glasses, hell, the punch, the bowl, the something extra, for the Town Sociables? He shifted quickly in his chair, another spike up his back. Not enough to distract his thoughts. It was just something she did and everyone had just come to expect it. Like so many of the things she did, it was a detail that was woven into the fabric of life in Dodge City, woven so expertly into the fabric that it went almost unnoticed. She had that quiet way of seeing what was needed and taking care of it, quietly, even anonymously when she could. Everything, every place, most people, in town seemed to have some tie to Kitty. More than once in the past few weeks he had been amazed at how much of her there was in Dodge. Somehow he had stopped noticing. Stopped noticing how she connected with people, how she did so much to ease the rough edges of life. All the little things she did for so many people. God, how he missed her. Again he shifted in an effort to shake the thoughts from his mind; again the pain.

"You need to look after that back, Matt." Doc could see the way he flinched with each quick movement. He heard only a grunt in return.

They sat, neither speaking, hearing the music start once more; each man missing the woman who crowded their thoughts, the woman he considered the only dance partner worth bothering about, the only woman either had accompanied to a Sociable in years, the only woman who could fill the void yawning before them..

The older man noticed that the marshal's gaze had taken the same path as his own. "It's been mighty dark over there for too long." He measured his words, not ready yet for a full assault. Most of Front Street was dark; folks were either in bed or down at the dance, but the light from The Long Branch had been gone for much longer than an evening. The upstairs light. His comment was met with silence. Doc wondered if it was just Matt's natural reticence or if it was a symbol of something more. He worried that it was surrender that he heard in the silence.

It was a thought he found unbearable. He knew, of course, that something was wrong. Kitty never left town without some warning, not unless there was something wrong. He felt keenly the difference here; never had he been at a total loss to understand her absence. More than three weeks, no explanation, no word. It wasn't good. He usually worked to tread lightly in the private lives of his friends; it was a rare occasion when he made any direct comment, asked a question. They were adults; they worked things out for themselves. For years he had watched them do it. Watched the ups and downs, the growth, the deepening of their bond. He knew that this time nothing was usual.

"Is she coming back?" Doc had come to the end of his patience. His words cut to the heart with the same precision he used in surgery. The best cut was the one performed with the sharpest scalpel, no hesitation, no half measure. Infection, tumor, did not heal from being ignored. He held his breath, the way he had held his breath as he prepared to cut into Matt's back, daring to believe that he could reach the bullet that deadened the giant man's legs, reach it and remove it. He waited. His chest cinched at the sound of Matt's reply, his voice raw, his words ringing of defeat.

"I don't know." It was all he could do to force the words out, to say the words he had tried so hard not to think. Fear seared through him at the admission. What he did know was that he needed, wanted, to have her back. He still didn't know what had happened. Oh, he knew sure enough what he had done, what he had said. He just didn't understand how he could have done it. She always called him a man of few words. His jaw tightened. Evidently, not few enough. He had been tired. No, if he were going to be honest with himself, and Matt was an honest man, he had been scared. His recovery had taken so long and still he wasn't in the shape he needed to be. He had been trying to banish the thoughts of what if. What if that were as far as he would make it in recovery? What if his strength, his body, that he had always depended on, let him down? What if he could no longer do his job? What if keeping the badge meant putting others in danger more than it meant protecting them? Damn it! He hated uncertainty! Now, his life was nothing but uncertainty. Uncertainty and new questions. What if he had truly lost her? What if he had finally pushed her too far, hurt her too much? What if putting the badge before his heart meant loosing the only woman he had ever truly loved? What would life be?

"Damn it, Matt!" Doc flung himself out of his chair. He had been on edge too long and wouldn't hold back any longer. "I don't pretend to know what happened between the two of you, but I can see that Kitty is the one who is gone and that tells me chances are damned high that you did something stupid!" His voice had neither the volume nor the depth of the Matt's, but it was every bit as hard as that of the marshal facing down the worst of the spoilers. "Do you want her back?" His words were meant to get a rise. "You just may have to do something to get her back!"

"There's nothing I can do." His voice again was hollow, but he continued, cutting Doc's response. "I don't know where she is." The edge of fear did not go unnoticed by the older man. He realized now the reason for the frequent trips out of town. How many times in the past weeks had he looked out onto Front Street to see Buck carrying Matt out to or back from the trail? He realized now why it was that even Festus, Newly, seemed to know little about these missions. Still, unwilling to accept it, he countered.

"Matt, you can look, you…"

"Don't you think I've tried?" at last Matt's voice gave some challenge. He rose from his chair and towered over his prying friend, anger, tension evident in his stance. "I have looked. I have looked everywhere I know to look. I have asked everyone I know to ask. I have run out of places to look! Dead ends!" His eyes locked with those of his friend, then he turned away. His hands shoved deep into his pockets, he stood slumped, his back to his tormentor. "It's a big world out past those dead ends, Doc." The despair had returned to his sound.

Doc scrubbed his hand across his face; he struggled for words, for hope.

"I messed up, Doc." Matt spoke quietly, but with no hesitation. "I messed up and I don't know if I can fix it." Messed up didn't begin to describe it. He had destroyed the best thing he had ever had in his life. He had been fighting his own demons, fighting to convince himself that he could still stand up to the demands of the badge. Fighting to convince himself that he was still able to take care of himself, hold his own, that he was able to take care of his town, his woman, just as he always had. Fighting to believe it, to believe that the challengers were not getting younger, faster. He had been fighting to hold on to his edge. He had not wanted to look at the reality Kitty saw; did not want to consider the possibilities, the demands for change it would mean. He had needed, wanted, things to remain as they had always been. With just a little more time…

Now, there was no more time. Oh, he could do his job. He doubted he would ever again do it without some pain, but he would manage. He had always managed. But, in his private struggle to hold on to that which shaped his life, defined him, he had lashed out. His words had ripped apart the tether to his true anchor, the touchstone of his life. Too late, he realized just how lost he was.

"She'll be back." Doc's words surprised Matt. Looking up, he searched his friend's face for some hope. Turning away, he stood gazing across the dark street, seeing only the darkness in her upstairs windows. Doc's eyes followed the direction of Matt's focus.

"That's my only hope, Doc. I've tried to find her," Matt spoke quietly, his resonant voice a low rumble in his chest. "I keep telling myself she has to come back; she has The Long Branch. She'll have to contact someone…maybe Sam, maybe…" Matt looked once more at his old friend, his eyes trying to penetrate into his thoughts, desperation and hope warring across his own face. "Doc…?"

Doc wanted mightily to answer him, to offer him some bit of hope. "No," he shook his head, swiped angrily at his moustache. "No, I haven't heard from her. "I…I haven't heard."

Matt gave only a half nod, he hadn't expected anything else. No word, no word to Sam, none to Doc, none through Barney or the post. No word. He turned once more toward the dark face of the Long Branch, for so many years an oasis, his sanctuary, the expanse of Front Street before him now a desert he feared he could never cross.


	10. Chapter 10

**Wichita a GUNSMOKE story**

By MarMar1

Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: see chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: 1)Sugar cubes were invented in 1841 by Jakub Kryštof Rad

2) Dear Reader, thank you for your patience and thank you for your comments and feedback on this story

**Wichita chapter 10**

Frank stopped outside her door. His hesitation was an indicator of his uncertain thoughts, wondering what sort of reception awaited him. Well, no sense wondering when he had only to knock to find out. Shrugging off the uncertainty, he carefully placed the large basket to the side of the door, out of sight. If the reception turned out to be chilly, no sense looking more the fool with picnic basket in hand. Removing his hat, he brushed his hair back with one hand and knocked on the door.

As the door swung open, he couldn't help but smile. It had always been the same; seeing Kitty made him smile. From their very first meeting they had always had an easy, comfortable, teasing friendship. Frank had never felt a need for pretense with Kitty, not like he did with most women. He released the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"I wasn't sure if we still had plans." He offered with a slightly sideways, questioning look. He noticed, though, the way she was dressed, not plain (he doubted one could ever describe Kitty's attire as plain), but, well, casual. She wore a simple shirtwaist with the top buttons open, along with a dark skirt that just skimmed the tops of a pair of boots. He realized she was dressed for the stockyards and his tension eased.

Putting one hand to her hip, Kitty's eyes twinkled as she challenged him, "Frank Reardon, you aren't trying to back out on me, are you?"

"Oh, no ma'am. I would never dream of backing out on you. I just…well…uh…are you ready?" He didn't want to talk about the reason for his uncertainty. "I've brought along a picnic lunch, so we won't have to worry about hurrying back." Reaching over, he lifted the basket from its assigned spot out of sight and held it up for her to see.

Kitty lifted one delicate eyebrow in reaction before saying, "Let me just get my hat…" She stepped back into the room, then returned holding in her hands a hat which perfectly completed her outfit. Locking the closed door, she turned to Frank and said, "I'm ready."

MKMKMKMKMKMKFKMKMKMKMKMK

Pushing his hat back on his head, Frank leaned on the fence post and watched as Kitty stroked the nose of the big stallion whose muzzle was buried in the palm of her other hand. Sugar cubes! Who would have thought? Kitty chuckled deep in her throat as the stallion got a little too friendly with his muzzle, searching for more treats. "Oh, no." she said, firmly shoving the horse's head away. "I might have known you'd get greedy! Go on, now." She turned and walked toward Frank. He could see her eyes shining.

"They're beautiful, Frank." She tilted her head to indicate the corral full of horses. "Someone has a good eye for horse stock." She placed her slender hands on the top fence rail as they each looked out over the animals. Frank had always appreciated her knowledge of and abilities with horses. She was a natural, so at ease with them. He thought how her lovely hands looked, soft and polished in contrast to the hard, weathered fence rail; so different, yet not out of place. That was Kitty, elegance, beauty, strength that always complemented her surroundings, whatever they were. She had that innate ability to make a place better than it was before. She had that same ability with people.

"Dayton Simms." Frank confirmed. "He's the one buying 'em. Breeds them, I guess. He traveled himself, looking for what he wanted, he bought 'em and arranged to have them brought here from three different sites. I'm to drive them down to his ranch three or four days south." Dayton Simms was a name well known throughout Kansas.

"Thank you, Frank. Thank you for bringing me here, for showing them to me." Kitty smiled up at him, then turned her gaze once more to the livestock. Frank made a decision.

Resetting his Stetson on his head, he straightened up from the fence. "What do you say we take a ride?" He kept his gaze on the livestock, too.

After the slightest hesitation, Kitty spoke, "Oh, I haven't ridden in ages." Frank noticed that her voice was wistful rather than argumentative.

"Well, you surely haven't forgotten how." He said. "We'll get a horse from the stable for you. A nice, gentle, _old_ horse, if you insist." Frank teased and felt her begin to hope. "It'll be fun. We can ride out to the river, if you want."

Kitty turned sparkling eyes to look at him. "Would you, Frank? Just ride out to nowhere?" Her eyes held anticipation and what he thought might be a touch of sadness.

Unsure just how to respond to what he saw, Frank concentrated on the words and the lightness of the morning. "Oh, well, a ride to nowhere isn't so bad. Once we get there, we'll find out what's in this basket I've been lugging around all morning. That'll surely give me the strength to make the ride back." He played it up for all he was worth. "Maybe we'll even have a race on the way out." He allowed himself a sideways glance at Kitty. "Of course, if you're ridin' a nice, easy, safe old mount, it won't be much of a contest…" His crooked smile finished the challenge for him.

"Oh, you!" Kitty easily scolded as she claimed his arm and pulled him toward the stable entrance.


	11. Chapter 11 Riding

Wichita chapter 11 Riding

By MarMar1

Feb 2008

DISCLAIMER: see chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: if you have not read the "real" chapter 10, I suggest you do so before reading this chapter. I recently replace the note posted as chapter 10 with the actual chapter.

Kitty sat back on the blanket, having completed her duties of packing away the remaining picnic items while Frank tended to their horses. Looking around her at the soft green ground, the sparkle of the water in the creek, she couldn't help but think of other days, other picnics, other company. The memories brought a private smile to her lips.

Frank turned and stood for a moment, his hand on the withers of his sorrel, his gaze on the woman in the shade. He never tired of admiring her beauty, a gift of nature, and her grace, seemingly as natural a part of her as her beauty. She was truly the most intriguing woman he had ever known. Her elegance and grace were so unaffected, yet he had often seen the strength, determination, and earthiness that lay within. He remembered the expression of joy on her face as she rode, fast and hard, her hair flowing out behind. He remembered her laughter born of that joy and how the sound of it had made his heart swell.

His mind played for him images of Kitty over the past few days, her joy at seeing him outside the dress shop, their teasing friendship picking up from when they had last seen each other, her revelation to him of the words Matt had said to her, the reason she was in Wichita. His hand ran absently along the side of his horse, the color so close to that of her hair. The thought struck him that Kitty was in many ways like a champion horse, one that had been too long in the corral with too little attention and the sight of the prairie, but no freedom to run. He knew from experience that a man was wise to use caution with such an animal. Smiling, Frank let his hand drop from the horse's side and he strode toward the inviting shade.

Kitty saw Frank heading back toward their picnic site. The smile on her lips straightened and she felt a cinch around her chest; memories clashed with reality. She dropped her head and busied herself with nonexistent crumbs on the blanket.

"I can't help but think the time is perfect for a nap." Frank dropped down onto the blanket, stretching out, putting his hat over his eyes.

"Maybe it's that fifth piece of chicken taking hold," Kitty tried to tease, but her tone failed to match her intent. Frank let it pass.

"The horses won't mind a few more minutes." Frank said. "We ought to take a little longer getting back, though," he warned. "We don't want that stableman thinking we've been riding get away from a hold up." He watched from under the cover of his hat, wondering at the apparent change in mood. "I'll wager that ol' horse hasn't had that good a run in a long time."

"No. He seemed a little skittish at first. Once we passed sight of the city, though, he was ready to go." Kitty smiled softly, but Frank saw in her expression wistfulness rather than joy. His forehead creased in concern.

"Kitty…" he began.

"Take your nap, Frank." Kitty interrupted him, forestalling his question. "Let's not talk." She offered him a quick glance and forced smile before she rose from the blanket. "The afternoon won't last; don't waste your chance." Kitty said when he made moves to get up. Not waiting for a response, she turned and quietly walked toward the creek.

He stayed on the blanket, propped on one elbow, watching her. Her hair shone in the dappled sunlight, but the way her arms wrapped around herself showed she was anything but relaxed. He had known her for a long time, though they had seen each other seldom over the years. He did not know her the way he had known Maria, but still he could tell, just from the way she stood, that she was making an effort to contain her thoughts. He hesitated just briefly before pushing his tall frame up off the temporary bed.

"Kitty?" He knew she must have heard his approach. Only a slight movement of her head indicated she was aware of his presence behind her. His raised hand dropped from where it had hovered near her shoulder. She was in pain and he felt helpless. This was not his strong suit. He waited, unsure. Her voice surprised him.

"What am I going to do, Frank?" Her hands resettled their hold on her arms. "Where do I go? I can't stay in Dodge if he doesn't want me." Her head dropped and her right hand rose to cover her mouth. Frank knew she was trying not to cry. Damn!

She took a few deep breaths, then turned to look at him. "What about the Long Branch? What will I do? What about Doc and Festus? Bess? Sam? Frank, that's my life, my…my family. How do I walk away from all of that? Eighteen years, and all I get is 'Maybe you'd be better off with someone else.' Damn him and his duty!" Tears shimmered on the rims as her eyes begged him for answers he did not have. "Oh, Frank, what do I do?" Her last words were carried on a quiet sob as she lost her battle with the tears. Her hands covered her face in a futile attempt to hide herself, to hide from the pain.

Frank reacted instantly, his instinct to protect. He took her in his arms, holding her gently as she released the emotions that had battled within. He tucked her head beneath his chin, lightly stroking her hair; his strong arms held her firmly against him in an effort to comfort and soothe. Her tears dampened his shirt and he made meaningless sounds of consolation until she began to calm.

"Oh, Kitty." He whispered, not comfortable in his role. "Kitty." His hand moved rhythmically across her back. "Don't push yourself. You don't have to decide right now." He moved so that she could look at him.

"Don't increase the pressure by having to decide today." His chest squeezed at the look of despair in her crystal blue eyes. He used the tips of his fingers to tenderly brush away the final stray tears from her upturned face. "You aren't ready to decide." Other parts of him clenched as he saw longing mix with the despair. He rested his hands on her arms as he faced his own inner battle before stepping back. "I'm the wrong person to ask." His words were followed by a deep sigh.

Her gaze held him for a moment before she closed her eyes. "I'm so tired, Frank." She opened her eyes without really looking at him. "I'm so tired of waiting; of being…between." She flicked her gaze toward him, gauging his understanding. She turned and walked a few steps, then turned back. "I feel so...taken for granted. I want to feel...special, validated, appreciated." She walked back toward where he stood. "I want to feel like a woman more than a friend or a business owner." She paced as if she were an animal in a cage, her movements demonstrating her feelings.

"Sometimes I am just tired of being strong. Tired of the restraints. Tired of the way it is." The despair gave way some to anger, energy. "I'm so tired of waiting. Tired of not knowing. I want more carefree days, laughter. I want sunflower days again, the way it used to be." She stopped near him once more. "Not always, but sometimes. Why? Why can't I have that?" Again her eyes sparkled with tears.

Frank rested his hands on her upper arms, stopping her movement as well as her words. 'My God,' he thought, 'how is it possible that she feels so unloved? This beautiful, vibrant woman...she deserves so much…but...'

He gently drew her closer, then pressed his lips to hers in a firm, tender kiss. Keeping his hands on her arms, Frank leaned back, looking for her reaction. It seemed for a moment that nothing moved, he didn't breathe. Frank began to lower his hands, but before he could move away, he felt Kitty's hand on his face. Her expressive eyes caught his, her fingers slipped behind his neck to lead his head down toward her. "Oh, Frank," she breathed as her lips captured his with passion.


	12. Chapter 12

Wichita chapter 12 - Musing

By MarMar

Feb 2008

DISCLAIMER: see chapter one.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, you are not delusional, this is a new chapter less than a week after posting chapter 11. One never knows. I do realize that, due to the often lengthy time between chapter postings, it is easy for a reader to lose track of parts of a story. I hope this is not too much of a distraction for you. If it is, heck, just back and re-read the earlier chapters. Seriously, I do appreciate your patience. I know how it is to be on the reader side, waiting and waiting...

"Wichita" chapter 12 – Musing

a GUNSMOKE story by Marmar

Kitty hummed softly as she moved about, tidying her rooms. Not that there was much to do, she wasn't one to let things pile up. Gliding from the bedroom to the sitting room, she fluffed the settee pillows and adjusted her cape on the hook by the door. As she moved past the mirrored credenza her gaze fell on the hat box.

She stopped and stood, just looking down at the box still sitting where she had pushed it out of the way days earlier. The sight brought her light tune to an end and caused her thoughts to focus.

The hat, the one she had purchased out of frustration; frustration at her inability to keep her mind on the task at hand; her inability to feel anything other than numb. She reminded herself to not forget her desire to help out the shop owner, a fellow businesswoman trying to earn a decent living. Thoughts of her fragile emotions and the reason for them threatened to overtake her once more, but those thoughts took an unexpected turn and suddenly she laughed.

She had no recollection of the hat contained in that box; for all she knew it might look like a bowl of fruit or a dead fish. She did remember, though, Frank's teasing repartee about the hat and his repeated urging to have her show it to him. Slowly, Kitty bent to lift the hatbox and place it atop the credenza. Her hand tenderly stroked the sash that tied the box closed, wondering what she would find inside. She smiled and turned toward the window.

Standing, gazing out at the fading evening sun, she continued to smile as her hands settled on her crossed arms. It had been an unexpected day, starting with such ease and promise, the freedom of the ride, the calm of the shade and picnic shared with a trusted friend, followed by the tumble of the creek, the rising torrent of her emotions. Kitty let her eyes slip closed as she experienced again the relief of expressing those emotions.

She _remembered_ the terrible feel of her pain and anger, but what she _felt_ now was the peace that had come with their release. Leaning against the window frame with the sunset light on her face, Kitty once more felt the comfort of Frank's arms, the tenderness of his caresses as he held her, the soothing of his wordless sounds of support. She had been surprised at his patience, waiting for her to cry herself out, her tears marking his shirt over his heart.

She had been surprised by his patience and the extent of his tenderness. She had been less surprised by his kiss. She had known Frank for many years and had always been aware of the undercurrent of tension between them. It was a sensation with which Kitty was more than familiar, that feeling of possibilities, the connection of attraction, humor, desire, and understanding that sometimes happened. A low level tension. She and Frank had always played around it, expressing it in teasing and kindness and occasional quiet conversation. Even before Frank had found Maria, there had been no question of there being anything more. It was simply something to enjoy the way one would enjoy a cool breeze on a sunny day or the warmth of a fire when it snowed. Too much of either could burn.

She felt the evening air through the window. Looking back, it was her own actions, her own open, insistent kiss in return that caused her to wonder. After just one brief instant, she had felt no hesitation. She had known with every part of her that it was what she wanted.

She had wanted it and there was no doubt, from his reaction, that Frank had wanted it just as much, maybe more. A knowing smile bloomed on her lips. He had answered the invitation of her lips and for several warm, luxurious, thrilling moments they had been lost in the taste and feel of one another. Then, once again, Frank had surprised her.

Slowly, reluctantly, Frank had broken the kiss and eased out of the embrace. He had looked at her with warmth and longing, his fingers had caressed her cheek, and he had smiled softly. She had held her breath.

"Not now," his voice had been barely more than a whisper as his hand gently brushed the stray curls from her face. "Not here. Not like this. You...you aren't ready." His eyes watched hers and saw the longing and the questions. "This isn't easy, Kitty." He had broken the contact and stepped away. Half turning he exhaled deeply. "If I didn't care," he hesitated. "If I didn't care, it wouldn't matter." He looked back at her, and saw the understanding he had hoped for.

Of course she understood. She had spent years doing just what he was doing now: putting the feelings, the wants and needs of others, above his own. She knew too well what it was to do this and the price it could demand. They had shared a look from deep in their souls; the sense of admiration had conspired with desire to nearly overwhelm her.

She had smiled, placed her graceful hand on his muscular arm and said, "Bring the horses, I'll gather the blanket." After a gentle squeeze, her hand slipped from his arm and she stepped away toward the site of their earlier picnic. He had watched her admiringly, desires still warring within him, before moving to collect their horses. Their ride back had been slower than the morning run and it had been quiet. Not silent, not uncomfortable, but with each lost in their own inner labyrinth of thoughts, their conversation was quiet and marked by long breaks. They had talked of the prairie, the horses in Frank's care, and other little things, leaving the deeper thoughts unspoken.

Frank had started to call a carriage for the trip from the stable to Kitty's hotel, but she had stopped him, suggesting that they walk. Somehow a carriage had seemed too confining and a little too fast. She had felt the need to move with more ease, and so they had walked, her hand on his arm, chatting about the people and places they passed.

"I know you thought I'd forget, but I won't," Frank had challenged.

A bit startled, Kitty looked up at Frank. His eyes twinkled as he tilted his head toward the shop they were passing. "Your secret hat," he whispered. "I'm still waiting to see it." His smile was a bit tentative, but widened at the sound of her laugh. He loved the sound of her laugh. She stopped their progress on the boardwalk to stand before the shop.

"Oh, Frank, I'm almost afraid to look at it myself," she made her own gesture toward the shop. In the window was a clerk arranging several hats for display. A quick appraisal told Kitty that one was exquisite, two were acceptable, but the remaining two were to be avoided at all costs. It was one of these that the clerk, seeing he had their attention, lifted with an inquiring expression.

Seeing the hat and the clerk's hopeful expression, Kitty and Frank shared a look, then quickly turned and continued on their way, their laughter rising again each time they tried to look at each other.

Frank had left her at the door to her rooms. The perfect gentleman, he had waited to be sure her door was open, then, his blue eyes meeting hers, he thanked her sincerely for the wonderful day before taking his leave. His hand had reached toward hers, but he had redirected it to his hat, tipping the brim. Before closing her door, Kitty had watched him walk down the hallway to the stairs.

Kitty's mind strayed over the memories: desires, chances, responsibilities, choices, loss, relief, the horses, the prairie, the man, the kiss. She wondered at the unexpected turns of life. It was just a kiss, she thought, but...

She had grown so tired of always taking care of other people, putting other people, other's plans and desires first. She felt the heady temptation of considering her own needs first right now. It had felt so good to not be in second place

The sun sank behind the horizon leaving the dark sky for the stars and Kitty remained at dark window, remembering the kiss. She had known the feeling of being first in his world, his thoughts, his actions. It was only a kiss, but she had wanted it with every part of her and it had been wonderful


	13. Chapter 13 A Closet Full

**WICHITA** a Gunsmoke story

By MarMar1

February 2010

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own them, but I have a better idea what to do with them than those who do. As always, this is offered for my own satisfaction. "Gunsmoke" and all parts of that property belong to Viacom, I intend no copyright infringement and the only profit will be a comment or two from readers. Well, also the satisfaction of a story told.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: This story is set around late season 17 or early season 18, after "The Bullet" and before "Hostage!", 3 to 4 seasons after "Exodus 20:21".

**AUTHOR'S NOTE 2:** It has been a good while since I have posted a chapter to this story. I humbly suggest that the story will be better understood and enjoyed if the reader refreshes her memory of the preceding chapters.

**Wichita chapter 13 - A Closet Full**

Kitty gently opened her parasol and situated it over her shoulder as they exited through the open doors onto the boardwalk.

"You're sure this place is close enough for us to walk to?" She wasn't exactly skeptical, but thought it wise to double check; it was a large town. She was also curious.

"Have it on the best authority," Frank gave a lopsided grin. "Said to be the best, the nicest place for lunch here in Wichita. So, I figured it must be close by, seeing as you have quarters in such a nice hotel an' all."

Kitty matched his sideways smirk. "So that explains the dressing up." She ended with an eyebrow arched at her companion, her gaze sliding over Frank's attire.

"Oh, this?" He stroked the lapels of his new jacket. "Well, I had to do something. Could hardly go escorting the loveliest lady in town in all her finery with me wearing my ol' trail duds. Wouldn't want to cause folks to talk, ya know."

Kitty chuckled lightly. "Well, it looks good on you, Frank." She offered a genuine smile.

For his part, Frank was pleased. The style of a gentleman was not his strong suit, but he knew city life well enough to get by. He was pleased to gain her approval. "Then we're on for that lunch?" His boyish eagerness twinkled in his eyes.

Kitty laughed again, "Of course, Sir. Lead the way." She gently placed her hand in the crook of his elbow as they turned along the boardwalk.

"Keep that little parasol in place, now. We wouldn't want another crop of pesky freckles popping out." He lightly patted her hand where it rested on his arm as he turned her in the direction of the restaurant. "I went by the place earlier," he reassured her. "It's just a few streets over."

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The diminished light and shade were welcome as the outer doors closed behind them. Kitty closed her parasol and Frank reached for the handle of the inner door just as it swept open. Kitty stepped quickly back, brushing against Frank as she avoided a collision. His hands went out to steady her.

"Ah, excusez-moi," the woman exclaimed, her hand reaching out toward Kitty, realizing her near miss. "Are you unhurt?" The woman's genuine concern was evident as her hand rested on Kitty's arm and her large brown eyes searched her face. Seeing that no apparent harm was done, the woman turned to the gentleman who had come to a quick stop behind her and spoke, her voice evidencing a light accent, "Bernard really must do something; it is only luck no one has been injured here in this tiny space!" Turning her attention again toward Kitty she asked, "You are all right, yes? I am so sorry."

Kitty offered a smile, "Yes, I'm fine. None the worse for wear." She thought how years in a saloon had given her plenty of experience in avoiding collisions. The other woman moved again to speak to her companion, but focused on the lovely red haired woman when Kitty said, "Vous parlez français" Kitty had been much more startled by the words and accent of the small woman in front of her than she had been by the sudden movement of the door.

"Oui bien sur. Et vous aussi?"

"J'ai fait... il étais... il y a longtemps."

Frank Reardon looked on as his companion conversed with the woman. He wasn't so much of a hick to not know they were speaking in French, he was pretty sure, but the only words he thought he recognized were New Orleans. From the looks of their faces though, they were delighted Just as he turned to inspect the man behind Kitty's new acquaintance he heard the foreign conversation halt. Kitty seemed about to introduce her newest friend to Frank, but stopped when she looked at the other gentleman.

"Mr. Saunders!" Kitty smiled, her voice showing obvious surprise. The woman with the shiny black hair looked curiously from one to the other, then included Frank in her questioning gaze. Frank only had time to offer a small shrug as some part of his mind registered amazement that even here Kitty found not only new people to befriend, but others she knew already.

"Miss Russell, how nice to see you again." The man smiled and turned to explain to his companion that he and Kitty had met earlier that day, evidently on a business matter. As introductions were made, the foursome deftly moved further into the restaurant, clearing the way for others to exit.

Mr. Saunders continued, "Miss Russell, may I present my wife." He said, indicating the woman with whom Kitty had been speaking.

Mrs. Saunders extended her hand to Kitty, "Veronique," she offered her first name. "You have had business with Franklin; it seems such a small world at times."

"And I'm Kitty," she returned the favor of the first name. "And this is my dear friend, Frank Reardon." Kitty nodded around the group, introducing Frank, who nodded to Veronique with a smile, then shook hands with Franklin Saunders.

"Frank," he offered. "Just Frank," he said with his trademark smile, hoping his natural sincerity with people would cover his awkward feelings.

The other man shook hands eagerly, saying, Good. That'll keep the confusion down a little." His warm chuckle was just as natural as Frank's smile as the two sized each other up the way men do when meeting.

Veronique interrupted, saying, "You must meet Bernard. He is also from New Orleans; he will be so delighted to meet you!" She said to Kitty, touching her arm as she looked about the large room for the restaurant owner. "Oh, and you must come this weekend." She continued enthusiastically, looking to her husband for his nod of agreement. "The Spring Fling on Saturday evening. It is a wonderful excuse for us to get dressed up and have fun!" Her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

"The food is wonderful; in fact, Bernard tkes care of that. Veronique won't tell you, but it is THE event of the year. She is the main organizer. It would be a great chance to meet folks and make business connections along the way." Franklin Saunders was clearly proud of his wife. He turned his remarks toward Frank. "Don't worry, you'll have a chance to enjoy a good cigar and a good drink, but on the verandah." He looked at Kitty, "We welcome the company of our ladies."

"Yes, you will both come." Veronique considered the question settled. "Ah, Bernard." She reached out to take the arm of a strong, broad-chested man and drew him into the group.

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"Kitty, you are amazing." Frank chuckled as he watched Bernard Langdon return to running his establishment, having spent a few minutes talking with them at their table. Frank looked back at Kitty, "Is there anywhere you can go and not know someone? And I've never seen anyone make friends so fast." His eyes shone with admiration and perhaps something more as he spoke.

"Oh, Frank." Kitty laughed it off. "It's just coincidence. I met with Franklin just this morning and, well, you were here for the rest."

Frank twisted his mouth around before replying. "Sure, it just happens. We bump into Franklin, almost literally. He introduces us to his wife, they invite us to THE event of the year in Wichita, they introduce us to the owner of the restaurant who sits and chats with us. You and he find you have a common friend from New Orleans and our meal is now 'on the house' and Bernard has promised to make a special dessert for the Spring Fling if only you will attend." He stopped and a teasing smile played on his lips. "Sure, just the sort of thing that happens every day for most of us."

"Oh, all right." Kitty laughed and conceded. "I suppose it is a little unusual, but I did only meet Franklin Saunders this morning." She topped it off with one of her best sweet and innocent looks before returning her attention to the large printed menu. How long had it been since she had lived in a town with even one restaurant which used printed menus, she wondered as she read.

"He mentioned business," Frank hoped he sounded more casual than he felt. "Is that what your meeting was about?" He kept his own eyes on the menu in front of him, but his brain barely registered any of the words he read.

Her silent sigh was deep as she faced the issue head on "I can't live in the hotel forever, spending money and doing nothing, you know." She worked to keep her tone light; she noted Frank's obvious interest in her answer.

"Dreams are nice, Frank, but I've always been one to deal with reality." Well, except for all those years in Dodge, dreaming that someday...She brutally turned her thoughts away from that subject. "Last night I finally realized it was time to start looking to what's ahead. If I can't live in Dodge, I'll have to live somewhere and," she said in a matter of fact voice, "I'll have to have money."

Frank was now focused completely on his companion, the menu forgotten on the tale in front of him. "You're looking for a business here, in Wichita?" Somehow, it was impossible for him to imagine.

"I'm just looking. I met with Franklin because I'll need someone to handle the sale of the Long Branch and someone who can advise me on the community here." Kitty really hadn't been prepared for this discussion, had expected to have days, possibly weeks, to consider her decisions. She looked up to see Frank starring at her, obviously surprised. "Going back to Dodge is not an option." Her voice was even, her tone was final. "What did you think I would do?"

Looking somewhat chagrinned, Frank shook his head a little. "I guess I just never thought of it." His expression turned to one of contemplation "If someone had asked, I might have said I'd expect you to return to New Orleans. I mean, it's home and all." He remembered stories Kitty had shared years ago about her days in New Orleans. Stories she had shared back in younger days when he and Maria had been able to spend some time in Dodge,

"Home." She spoke the word, testing the feel of it on her tongue. "No. It was home, a long time ago, but it hasn't been for years. It's not all good memories; besides, I don't really have any friends left there." Her comments made it clear she had given the question at least some thought.

Frank perked up, "What about this, uh," he hesitated as he checked something in the menu, "what about this 'Antoine'?" He stumbled a bit over the unfamiliar name listed in pride of place: 'Antoine's Poulet in sauce Rochambeau'. Some sort of chicken, he thought Bernard had said, insisting on serving his new friends this signature dish, in honor of this Antoine, once he had realized that Kitty not only knew of the restaurant in question, but was actually acquainted with the man himself.

Kitty smiled, a smile of warm memory. "He has a restaurant in the French Quarter, not far from where I lived after my mother died. It wasn't the sort of place I was able to frequent, but I became well acquainted with Antoine and his wife, Catherine, in the neighborhood. Their restaurant and I are apparently about the same age." Her eyes took on a wistful, far away look before she brightened once more. "They were very kind and, well, a long story. They did me a great kindness before I left the city. I'm sorry to know that he has taken ill."

It dawned on Frank that he had missed that pertinent part of the conversation with Bernard Langdon. Once more he admired the woman across from him. He had known her to speak Spanish fairly well, but had never thought of her speaking French. How was she able to remember it, he wondered. "So, there is no one back there?" His question was born of curiosity mixed well with desire. He realized he would not have been happy to see her go.

"Oh, I suppose Catherine might remember me, but she was older. Maybe one or two girls I knew before my mother's death, but they are no more than possible acquaintances now. John Chapman is the only person I've known recently; he returned to New Orleans just before..." She paused ever so briefly, "Just before Matt was shot."

Frank realized that she meant when Matt had been shot most recently; the shot she said had nearly killed him, or worse, left him paralyzed. The shot which had led to Kitty being here in Wichita now. He quickly spoke to turn their conversation to less dark matters, to keep Kitty his companion from sinking into unhappy thoughts.

"So, this 'Spring Fling' is in only 5 days," his eyes twinkled as he continued. "I suppose this might just be the inspiration needed to send you out to shop in earnest."

Frank thought he saw gratitude spark in her eyes as her thoughts clearly turned to the new subject. Kitty's blue eyes turned to gaze warmly at him.

"I think it is just the thing, now that you mention it. It will be a challenge. Even in Wichita there is no guarantee of finding anything appropriate in a ready-to-wear store. It will take some work to find a seamstress willing to work that quickly for an unestablished customer." Frank could tell from her voice that Kitty was up to the challenge. Feeling certain that this would be a great opportunity for Kitty, as Franklin had said, he made a quick decision.

"I hope you won't mind, Kitty. I'll have to leave you fairly quickly after our lunch. The additional horses came in yesterday. I'll be getting my little herd together and heading out with them this afternoon."

Kitty continued to look at Frank, but forestalled any reply as the waiter brought the beginning of their meal and set it before them. As the served moved away from the table their conversation turned to the meal, each commenting on the appearance and then on the taste. Frank had to admit that it was exquisite, as Kitty said. The meal was superb; the service attentive; Bernard stopped by their table again to check on their meal and was clearly pleased with Kitty's reactions. Bernard again insisted that he would see them at the Spring Fling and would agree to prepare his special dessert only when Kitty gave him her promise that she would be there. Frank was surprised to note a hesitation, so brief he might have missed it or imagined it, prior to the appearance of her dazzling smile and sincere agreement. He reminded himself again that Kitty was in the midst of life changes which had been thrust upon her. He knew all to well the pain of such changes and the strength it took to survive t

hem.

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The afternoon was warm, but pleasant; life on the street was vibrant, but not crowded. Frank enjoyed the feel of Kitty's hand on his arm as they navigated their way from the restaurant.

As they exited onto the walkway Frank asked, "May I escort you to your first stop?" expecting Kitty to waste no time looking for that special dress she would wear for her introduction into Wichita society. He was surprised again by her hesitancy.

"You aren't thinking of backing out, now, are you?" He half teased as he waited for her decision. "You did promise, you know." Watching her face, Frank did not miss the shadow of sadness as it slide over her beauty.

"What? Oh, no, of course I promised." There was no joy in her voice, Frank noticed. "I can look tomorrow."

Concerned now, having expected her to plunge right into the chase, Frank decided to try a gentle push.

"Sure, tomorrow." He took a breath. "Of course, you've been here a few weeks and haven't found anything so far, but I guess four or five days'll be enough to find what you need." He listened to his gut and pulled back from going any further. Though he was in a hurry to get on the trail with the horses, he somehow knew this was not the time to challenge her. He did, however, turn them in the direction of the shops rather than the hotel.

Kitty turned with him on the boardwalk, but took a moment before responding. "Well, it isn't as if I have no dresses. I'm sure I have something with me that will do." Frank was surprised by the lack of enthusiasm in her voice and he was getting the feeling that she was somehow drawing away from him. Pressed for time, he decided to push a little more.

"Well, now, Kitty, I'm sure you have a closet full of real nice dresses; I sure know I've never seen you looking anything but lovely. I just figured you'd want to have something extra nice, seein' as you'll be making that first impression and all on Wichita society." Frank let a few seconds tick before he continued. "'course, I know it's been a while since I've seen you and you've likely gotten lots of new dresses since then," he put on his best finagling voice "but I was kinda hopin' you'd want to have some nice, new, imported gown to wear. I mean, ya know I won't be drawin' any special looks from anyone, but I was sorta lookin' forward to showing you off. Not often an old trail bum like me gets to have the newest and most beautiful woman in town on his arm. Who knows, might just work gettin' me connected to another job."

Frank felt her hand slip from his arm and wondered if he had pushed too far. Then he realized that Kitty had stopped dead still on the walk and he had to turn and walk a few steps back to where she stood. He felt his chest clench when he saw her expression.

"I thought you were leaving." Her voice hinted at more emotion, but it wasn't joy. Frank saw her expression slip into her poker face, masking the dewy softness he had seen in her eyes.

With his hands on her upper arms he gently moved them to the inside for the walk, into the shade and out of the way. He let his hands drop as he spoke.

"Well, yes, I am leaving; got to get that horse flesh up country. I've delayed a few days already and I don't want to push my luck." He answered matter-of-factly.

"Didn't you tell me that it's easily a three day ride or more to the ranch?" Her voice was flat, but it had an edge to it now, an edge Frank was not accustomed to hearing. "That's six days there and back, Frank. The Spring Fling is next Saturday. That's five days."

"Well, sure, on a normal trip it'd take six days. That's why I'm leaving now. Not sure I could make it if I waited to leave in the morning, but if I get on the trail now and push those fine horses a bit, I figure to make it there in two, maybe two and a half days. Ralph Landry may not be too happy, but he'll sure be able to see if what he bought is really as good as he thinks. I don't think he'll want to suggest that his new prize stock isn't up to a little hard drive." Frank's voice was full of the confidence of a man used to dealing with other tough, demanding men.

"Then you'll be back; you'll be here on Saturday." It was a comment, not a question, but it was said with some disbelief.

"Well, sure, I've got to be here on Saturday. How else could I escort you to the Fling?" Frank watched as Kitty's expression cracked through her poker face, something he doubted happened very often. He saw her struggle to compose herself and he finally understood. It had not been his imagination; she had been drawing away from him. Ever since he had mentioned that he would have to leave immediately after lunch she had been shut off, pulling back from him. She had expected him to be gone, to miss the big event.

Once more Frank's hands claimed possession of Kitty's arms. Had they been in private rather than on the street, he would have wrapped her in his arms. He looked directly into her eyes. "Kitty, I have no intention of missing that dance. There is no where else I would be." He saw an ease return to her eyes and he let the fingertips of one hand gently caress her cheek. "I can do this trip and be back in time; I just have to leave now." What he was thinking was that he'd be a fool to miss the opportunity to escort Kitty and more a fool to allow her to attend without him; but he was no fool.

Needing to lighten the mood, Frank said "That's why I was hopin' you'd find yourself a brand new special dress. Maybe one that will match that hat you haven't shown me yet."

"Oh, Frank," Kitty pretended to scold as they turned to continue their walk toward the shopping area.

"Just remember, I'm just an old trail bum, this is about as spiffed up as I can get with what I have. Like I said, though, no one's likely to be looking at me." He offered her a sideways grin.

"Frank, you're sure? I mean, I don't want you getting into trouble with Mr. Landry over it." Kitty's concern was evident in her voice.

"Oh, he'll bellow a bit, I imagine, but it won't mean anything."

"And you really think you can make it back by Saturday?" Kitty's voice still held disbelief, but it was mixed now with something else, something light.

"I know I can. I'll be here, Kitty. You can count on that."

They quickened their pace toward the shops as they continued making plans for Wichita's Spring Fling. Reaching the shopping district, Kitty indicated a shop she intended to visit. They stepped momentarily off the boardwalk, into the alley and out of the way, as they finalized their plans.

"I'm sorry to rush out on you, Kitty." Frank apologized once more, "but I need to get on the trail."

"Frank," she placed her hand on his arm to emphasize her words, "please be careful. I want you to make it back in time, but I don't want you to take any wild chances." Her warm eyes held his, driving home her level of concern.

Frank held himself in check once more, resisting the powerful urge to take her into his arms. "Don't you worry, Red, I can do this." He held her gaze, allowing the connection to deepen.

"Then I'll just have to find that special dress." Kitty gave a saucy smile, her pragmatic side acquiescing, deep-seated memory giving way to the pull of desire. She added an obvious wink to the saucy smile.

Frank laughed out loud, letting the tension break. "I expect you will." His smile matched hers. "I have to go..." His hand took hold of her upper arm as he leaned in to place a quick, gentle kiss at the corner of her mouth, sealing the promise before rushing on his way.

His mind, already caught in the rush of the trip, was several steps ahead of his moves as he straightened from his brief, public intimacy. Unexpectedly, he felt Kitty's hand on his shirt collar, holding him in place. As he returned his speeding mind to the moment at hand, he found his mouth responding to the pressure of Kitty's lips on his own. Just as he began to fully register the pleasures of her warm, supple mouth, the contact was broken as Kitty stepped away.

"I'll see you Saturday." Her voice was warm honey and whiskey and swirled in his ears before it settled deep inside him.

With a slow caress down his shirt, Kitty looked into his eyes once more before silently turning and stepping out again onto the boardwalk.

Drawing in a quick breath, releasing it between lightly clenched teeth, Frank took a sideways step, giving him a clear view down the boardwalk, allowing himself a moment to watch admiringly as Kitty Russell sashayed away from their encounter. Then, against every urge he felt, Frank forced himself to turn and nearly ran in the direction of the stables.

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end chapter 13


	14. Chapter 14

WICHITA a Gunsmoke story

By MarMar1

February 2010

DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, but I have a better idea what to do with them than those who do. As always, this is offered for my own satisfaction. "Gunsmoke" and all parts of that property belong to Viacom; I intend no copyright infringement and the only profit will be a comment or two from readers. Well, also the satisfaction of a story told.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is set around late season 17 or early season 18, after "The Bullet" and before "Hostage!", 3 to 4 seasons after "Exodus 20:21". If you haven't read the story recently, I highly recommend a review of chapter 5 (at least).

**Wichita chapter 14 Been Here Before**

Kitty Russell brushed the sleeve of the handsome new coat as she had the pants hanging from the hook, removing imaginary lint and reassuring herself that the items were free of imperfection. It was a routine she had repeated several times over the past few days.

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Following their luncheon days prior, Frank had escorted her to a local dress shop. They had each been caught up in the urgency of time. Frank had apologized for having to leave so abruptly; Kitty had assured him that she understood. Frank had promised to return in time for the Spring Fling. An atmosphere of excitement had swirled around them as they made hurried plans.

Frank had planned to travel light. He needed to hurry and had no time to waste on changing clothes or cooking on the trail. When he had mentioned leaving his extra things with the clerk at the small rooming house where he had been staying, Kitty had suggested that she would send someone around to collect his things later. No need for him to pay the clerk for storing them when she had a perfectly good suite with plenty of room. Frank had hesitated, but Kitty had persuaded him it was the thing to do. They knew that Frank would be rushing into Wichita at the last minute on Saturday and Kitty convinced him that she would be able to prepare things for him.

As they had settled their plans, Kitty had told Frank to be careful; his safety was more important than the hour of his return. Frank had once more promised to be back to escort her to the party. She had thanked him again, her elegant hand resting on his forearm. Frank had been nearly lost her eyes, seeing the look of gratitude and hope, mixed with something more tender. Once again he struggled to keep from pulling her into his arms and instead, he had leaned over and placed a gentle kiss near the corner of her mouth. Never one to live in the past, Kitty had taken the initiative, kissing him full on the mouth, adding a much deeper dimension to the promise.

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Kitty had entered the shop and had earnestly perused the dress offerings and she had been pleasantly surprised. All the times she had visited various shops since arriving in Wichita she had found no dress that even tempted her; she had seen no fabric to inspire her to hire a dressmaker; she had gone numbly though the routine of looking without really seeing.

This time, though, her eyes and her fingers swept over delightful colors and styles. Some, she could tell, had been imported from the east coast or farther, others were more likely locally made. Each was a treat. Many created the desire which had been missing and Kitty had spent the remainder of the afternoon indulging that desire. She had looked in several shops and spoken with three seamstresses. She had tried on several dresses.

The third seamstress had been in a small shop. Her selection was small, but each piece was a work of art made from wonderful fabrics with skillful additions of ribbon or lace or tucks and gathers. Kitty had wanted to try each dress, every shirtwaist and skirt, but she kept her focus on finding a dress for the festivities on Saturday. She had tried three which were lovely and fit her size, or would with minimal alteration. Two she had thought might do, but weren't quite what she wanted; it was never easy to find a special dress, especially at the last minute.

It had been late in the afternoon when she had gotten to the shop. Only one other customer stopped in, to check on a dress order, and Kitty was sure the owner would be eager to close up. As she prepared to change out of the last dress, however, the woman had called to her. She and Kitty had exchanged pleasantries, the woman, Frances, learning that Kitty was new in town and that she was looking for a dress suitable to wear to the Spring Fling.

Kitty had learned that Frances was a second generation dressmaker, that she had opened her shop in Wichita just eight months earlier, that she had spent some time in the east, and that she was an artist who worked with fabric and tread.

"Pardon me, I don't mean to be forward, but there is a dress which you must try." Frances gave Kitty a friendly and hopeful look. "I have watched as you have looked at the dresses; you have an eye for fashion and style. Please, let me get the dress from my workroom." With that, the young woman hurried off toward the back of the shop, not waiting for her customer to reply.

Kitty was in no hurry; sure that other shops in town would be closed by now, she resigned herself to another day of searching. She could take the time to look over what the woman was offering; she seemed unusually excited.

Frances returned to the fitting room. Kitty's eye was immediately caught by the fabric draped over the woman's arm. The deep, rich, emerald color was enhanced by the soft, silken texture. It was clearly an expensive fabric. Kitty's mind flitted over the thought that perhaps Frances was hoping to make a substantial sale late in the day. Her enthusiasm, though, quickly dispelled the thought.

"As soon as I saw you, I knew this would be perfect. The color, with your wonderful hair and beautiful skin, will be exquisite!" Her sincerity rang in her voice. "Please, let me show you. It is not complete, but if you like it I can have it finished by Friday afternoon, in time for the Fling on Saturday." France gently shook the dress out and held it up for Kitty to inspect.

It was immediately clear that the piece was far from complete, but there was enough form to see some general design. Kitty let her fingers caress the fabric, held it up to look at a few spots, trying to get the full look of the dress.

"Well, this fabric is certainly lovely." Kitty smiled as her fingers lingered over the jewel green expanse.

Frances moved suddenly to place the soon to be dress over the back of a chair. "Oh, yes! I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it last year in Charleston, before I traveled out here. I knew it would make the most beautiful dress. I worked out the design, but never started on it until two weeks ago." The seamstress told her story with a breathless excitement, changing direction again as she held the work in progress up next to Kitty's shoulders. Urging her customer to hold the dress up, Frances pulled and adjusted, then stepped back to look.

"Oh, I knew it! I just knew it, as soon as I saw you!" Turning Kitty to face a full length mirror standing by the wall, the younger woman clapped her hands and gave a little hop of delight. "The size is right; the color is perfect; yes!" She seemed to be talking to herself as much as to her model.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Kitty Russell had to agree; the color did a wonderful job of setting off her natural coloring; the fabric was exquisite; the design, from what she could tell, was flattering. She used one hand to hold the dress against herself as she adjusted some of the pieces in an effort to get a better look at the style.

"I am so glad that you're tall!" Frances continued to manipulate the drape and folds of the elegant fabric. "We won't have to cut much of the fabric before hemming; I don't think I could stand to waste a bit of it."

Kitty held her tongue, but smiled to herself as she realized the young woman was talking as if Kitty had already agreed to purchase the garment. The smile brushed her lips as she watched the mirror. "There seems to be quite a bit of work still to do on it." She commented, curious to know just what was left and if it could possibly be completed in time. "This," she fingered a drape of fabric, "is this in the right place? Is it..." She wasn't entirely sure what the finished look would be.

"Yes, ma'am. That piece will be here," Frances attempted to demonstrate as she spoke, but with the dress being just held up she struggled to make the pieces do what she wished. "Oh!" she expressed her frustration with a little stamp of her foot as the fabric slipped once more from her hold. "If you had it on..." she let the thought fade as she looked at the offending creation. "Wait, wait. I'll show you..." and she once more dashed to the back room. Kitty let her arms relax and she stepped away from the mirror to place the partially made dress over the back of the chair, wondering what the dressmaker would show her next.

What the young woman had brought out to show was her drawings of the dress design. She had explained each detail with loving enthusiasm. She clearly had put not only much work, but her heart and soul into the design. Kitty listened, but with only half an ear because, once she had seen the drawings, she had known that she would buy the dress, whether or not it would be possible to have it finished by Saturday. Frances had a definite talent for design.

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Kitty had completed all the preliminary steps to getting ready for the evening; following a refreshing bath she had arranged her hair in a simple, but elegant upsweep, held in place with a few combs which sparkled and matched the color of her dress. Her face was ready, her powders and tints done to perfection. She had donned her undergarments and topped it all with a light touch of fragrance before slipping into her robe. There was nothing left for her to do but to put on her new dress and slip into her shoes.

If she were to stand at the sitting room window and look out over the park, she knew she would be able to see the top of the building just past the far end of the park, the large hall where Wichita's Spring Fling would be held tonight. She knew she would also see the sun slipping toward the horizon. It was getting late.

Kitty tried to not think about the time. She tried to maintain the same expectant attitude she had kept all week, but after the third time she realized that her attention was not on her reading she snapped the book closed and set it on the tabletop next to the upholstered chair where she was sitting. She methodically smoothed the dusty blue robe, she crossed her legs, she uncrossed her legs. She looked again at the discarded book.

In frustration she finally stood. She moved around the room lighting the lamps before walking to the sideboard where she poured herself a drink. Holding the glass in her hand she looked down into the dark amber liquid. She was not ready to put thoughts into words, but she knew this feeling. She had been here before. So many times she had been here, waiting.

Kitty took a short drink from the glass and walked to the window. Not looking would change nothing. The sun would still set, the lights would still grow bright at the hall, the evening would begin. She took another swallow before setting the glass on the window ledge.

She had not agreed lightly to the plans for the evening. Though she had made her decision quickly, she had been very aware of the implications. True to her nature, she had made the decision. She had never been one to live in the past, but rather, she tended to live in the present while looking to the future. It wasn't that she turned her back on the past, she simply did not let it control her. She knew all to well that holding on to the past could disappoint just as sharply as looking to a future which might not happen.

As with her business plans, Kitty had realized it was time to open herself to possibilities. Now, standing at the window, sipping the whiskey, she struggled with self recrimination. She knew she had been too quick to set expectations and had, all on her own, set herself up for disappointment. She briefly wondered if she didn't have some deep seated internal flaw which led her to put herself into such situations.

She never thought to be irritated with Frank. Irritated, yes, but not with Frank. She believed he had genuinely intended to make it back in time, even though the Spring Fling was not his first idea of a good time. She knew that he had wanted to do it for her and she had been grateful to him for that. He had already delayed the trip in order to spend some time with her. She knew he had planned to leave soon even before they had been invited to the Fling and he could hardly have put it off for another week. Kitty caught her lower lip between her teeth as her mind voiced the next thought. Why had he not returned? Knowing that he had intended to, she had to examine the possibility that something had happened to prevent it. Here, too, she had been before, so very many times. She was practiced enough to know she had to acknowledge the thought that something could have happened to Frank. She knew he had planned a hard trip, riding hard and fast, alone. There were so many possibilities.

Once examined, the thought would stay, but again, she had experience. She would put the thought to the back, as a pot set aside to simmer, but she would look forward. What now? She had no real reason to look into Frank's absence. It was not unreasonable for the trip to have taken longer than planned. She would have to live for awhile with that simmering worry.

First things first, she thought. Tonight, what about tonight? She knew the Spring Fling would be an irreplaceable opportunity for her and, if she intended to stay in Wichita, the introductions and connections made at an event like the Fling would be invaluable. She should go.

Alone? Unescorted? This was a problem. This was Wichita; not the biggest city in the world, but a city with an eye toward society. Had Frank not been with her, she could have made plans to arrive with Veronique and Franklin Saunders. That would have been not only acceptable, but beneficial to her purpose. Of course, it was far too late for that now. This wasn't Dodge and she wasn't known here. To show up alone would be unheard of.

She wouldn't enjoy it. Here, too, she had been before. It was one thing to be part of such an event when you had planned to do it without an escort. It was quite a different experience when it was not planned. She could put on the public face, act the part. She would even enjoy meeting some new people. She knew, though, that this required a level and type of energy that she would not easily come by. It would extract a price she was not ready to pay.

Kitty leaned her forehead against the now dark window pane, closed her eyes, and let the decision settle upon her. She knew she would not go. With only a glance toward the lights beyond the park, she moved away from the window. She took a slow drink from the glass, emptying it. She made a detour past the new suit hanging by the bedroom doorway, giving the suit jacket just a gentle brush of her fingertips as she passed on her way to the sideboard. She would not go. She would give the evening over to the past, sharing it with another glass of whiskey. She would cry a little; she would sleep. Tomorrow she would reach deep inside to find what she needed to once more look to the future, to tend the simmering worry, to move forward. She had been here before.

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end chapter 14


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